Beware the Knife
by ALzzza
Summary: "Newt." Thomas staggered towards him, his voice smooth and strong and quiet, so incredibly sure. "Newt, it's me. It's Tommy." His voice so sure until it wasn't. Until it shook like his burning limps, until it was scared and wobbling just like the tears held in his eyes. Or the one where Newt doesn't die, but Thomas does.
1. Oh

"Newt?"

Thomas' voice rang out against the empty walls. The sound of a war raging just outside, but it all become backwash. White noise. It all became nothing. The heat that crawled up his sides, the pounding behind his eyes, his pulse trying desperately to break free from under his skin. All of that, distant. Moving to the back of his mind as if he could turn it down like a tv show. Like he could just walk away and forget.

Newt was faced away. He stood in front of him far too strongly for someone who had been keeling over seconds ago. Far too strongly for someone who had pleaded Thomas to kill him, for someone willing to save him the trouble and do it himself.

"Newt." Thomas staggered towards him, his voice smooth and strong and quiet, so incredibly sure. "Newt, it's me. It's Tommy." His voice so sure until it wasn't. Until it shook like his burning limps, until it was scared and wobbling just like the tears held in his eyes.

"You need to hold on for me, okay. Just hold on." Thomas choked on his own breath, a sick wet sob barely escaping before his lips thinned tightly. His footsteps greeting the empty walk way like a bomb in a library. Newt didn't move.

Thomas stayed still, hovering like a second skin just behind him. Newt didn't move.

Thomas reached out with his hand, barely breathing. Eyes still shinning. Newt didn't move.

"Newt, please."

Newt _didn't_ move.

-His eyes blurred –

Newt _didn't move._

-Throbbing, ears echoing –

 _Newt didn't move._

-Screaming like thunder, deafening —

 _Newtdidn'tmove Newt didn't mo ve Newt d id n't m o ve._

-Too loud, too loud, too loud -

"Newt… Please. It- It's. Newt, it's Tommy."

Move. Move. Move. Newt's face a sick parody. Black painted against graying skin. It looks like he was dying.

 _dying dying dying_

Inhuman growl.

 _dyingdyingdying_

Newt in his face.

 _it looks like he's dying_

An inhuman scream to match Newt's growling tore from Thomas throat. His pulse slowed. He had Newt pinned to the ground. ( _Newt. Newt. Newt._ ) He was thrashing and snarling. ( _This was Newt._ ) His teeth bared and eyes fierce yet empty. This wasn't Newt. ( _He's still there. This is Newt._ ) How could this be Newt?

( _He's there. It's him. It's Newt_.)

Newts thrashing slowed to a stop and his eyes seemed to focus more securely on Thomas' face inches from apart. Thomas breathed shakily as he relaxed minutely.

"Newt?"

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

Thomas' eyes sharpened at Newts breathy words. Opening his mouth to speak but, his question quickly turned into a shocked gasp. Newt had a knife. His face morphed into something foreign and cruel. He shoved Thomas off his grip on Newt long gone slack. Newt had a knife. Where did he get a knife? Newt had a knife. Oh. Another gasp tore from his throat as his eyes searched for Newt. Distantly he heard yelling. And there were screams. Hands restraining Newt from behind. He thinks there's a voice. Is someone holding him? He's drowning. Water too thick.

Newt had a knife.

 _Oh._

Newt had a knife but, now he didn't.

Newt thrashed in their grip, mouth open in a silent roar that Thomas barely registers. Newt had stabbed him. _No. Everything's wrong. Why was everything wrong?_ He tore his gaze away from Newt so he could follow the hands on him up to a familiar face. Minho?

"It's Minho, Thomas. Thomas! Hey, look at me!"

Minho. Why was Minho here? Newt stabbed me. Why isn't Minho saving Newt?

"Thomas, it's okay. It'll be okay."

Minho has to save Newt.

"Newt's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

Thomas eyes felt really heavy suddenly. _Why did it matter? He has to save Newt._

"Thomas! Stay awake!"

"Minho." Thomas eyes startled open. Everything felt numb. He'd been stabbed. Newt. "Minho. You have to help Newt. He stabbed me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It felt like he was turning to stone. His eyes layered with exhaustion. Why was he awake? He's so tired.

Newt! "Minho. Minho." Thomas eyes found Minho's suddenly focused. "Min. You have to tell him okay? Tell him I'm sorry. He stabbed me."

"Thomas you're going to be fine."

"No." He slurred. "Newt. You." He tried to lift his hand to point. Tried to move, but barely twitched. "Minny. Min. Save Newt. Then." His voice wasn't recognisable, and he was quickly becoming lacks in Minho's grip.

"Tell Newt I'm sorry."


	2. It was you

Newt woke up too slowly. He felt disoriented and confused. His face pulled down, eyebrows scrunching when he finally made out his surroundings. He was on a bed, which first of all, why the fuck was he on a bed, and second of all, where the fuck was he that had a bed? Tearing his focus away from that he peered around further. There were curtains obscuring his view of whatever lurk outside, and the room was bare of anything useful. He clenched his jaw, face becoming more secure in its frowning. Wait, was that sand?

Uncomfortable memories of the scorch tore through his mind. His pulse hammering as the phantom fear found its way to his stomach, crawling up through him to clutch at his heart like a hand determined to stop it's beating. He sucked in a long breath. He couldn't be there, he wasn't there. Opening his eyes from their previously screwed shut position and tried to calm down. Tried to figure out where he was.

His eyes darted around rapidly. He had to figure out what had happened. He had to focus. He closed his eyes again, more calmly this time.

He noticed the sound of the waves so suddenly it had him startling, eyes jumping open as his whole body jerked. Stealing the train. The Last City. Cranks. He was infected. Shit, Thomas. It all came storming back. Stomping and jumping over each other as he tried to sort out what had happened.

They wouldn't leave him, he remembers. They wouldn't just go. Gally, Thomas, Minho, they wouldn't leave him. Wait no. They had split up. Worst plan ever, Newt bet that was Tommy's idea the idiot. Then what. Fuck he needs to remember.

His drawn face took a determined edge as Newt tried to focus on what happened after they had split up, but it's all blurred. God, he hopes Thomas left him. Please say Tommy left him.

He grimaced. Considering he was alive, how was he alive, he'd say that was unlikely. Pursing his lips, he turned towards his forearm. It was covered by his shirt but, he didn't have much hope for what he'd find. Slowly he unclenched his hand and started to roll up the sleeve.

He was greeted by ugly veins trying to climb up his arm. Feeling even more grime, Newt figured that they had somehow gotten him the cure. Yeah right, he thought, so much for that.

He sighed feeling resigned as he dragged himself up from the bed. He was trying to figure out a plan as he slowly approached the edge of the curtain, keeping as silent as possible.

He had no idea where he was, or what the hell had happened but, he needed to find out. For fuck sake. He's going to have to go outside.

Resisting the urge to sigh again he moved forward in a half-stagger, half-stumble. Except before he could make it more than a step the curtain started drawing back from the outside. His heart begun jumping in his chest and he quickly put as much distance as he could between him and however the hell was coming.

Newt briefly debated jumping back to the bed and pretending to be asleep, casting his eyes towards it desperately.

"Calm down, shank. It's just me." Newts head whipped around painfully fast when he heard the familiar voice. He relaxed minutely, though if anything his heart just beat faster.

"Minho?" Newt winched, probably uncomfortably aware at how small and desperate his voice sounded still rough from sleep. But it was Minho. He stood relaxed just inside the room a small smirk curling at his lips even as concern practically radiated from him in waves. Seemingly unworried he strode towards Newt and pulled him into a hug.

Newt relaxed briefly returning the hug before holding him at arm's length. He searched Minho's face as his own face and stance slide into something akin to resolve. "Minho, what happened? Where are we?" As he spoke his eyes travelled away from Minho's face to scan him, clearly resisting the urge to pat him down in search of anything that could indicate an injury.

"We're somewhere safe. Me and Gally got to Brenda. She then took off with the Cure, me and Gally trailing." Newt didn't look up as he started to pat and prod down Minho's chest. Clearly his concern had won over his restraint. "For god sake, Newt. I'm fine!"

Minho pushed Newts hands away purposely holding them at Newt's side. Then, when Newt still didn't meet his gaze he lowered himself down, so he could meet Newts. "Obviously we gave it to you." He grumbled softly but didn't elaborate further.

Newt sighed irritated. "Minho, what happened? Where's Thomas?" Minho's expression flashed briefly into something Newt couldn't decipher.

Newt's eyes narrowed dangerously, locking with Minho's and when he still didn't answer spoke again, "Where's Thomas, Minho."

Minho's gaze shifted slightly before locking with Newt's again. He squared his shoulders. "He… He's still at the City."

Newts eyes burned fiercely, "Why?"

"Newt..." Minho breathed in deeply, sounding completely wrecked. "Newt, he was hurt…"

"What happened, Minho!" He growled.

"Newt you have to understand, no one could do anything…"

Newt turned away from where Minho was knelt on the ground looking far too accepting. The air felt thick and suffocating, the walls crawling in towards them. Newt sounded choked the next time he spoke. "Minho," he pleaded quietly. "What happened?"

"He was stabbed."

"By who?"

Minho hesitated even more, "Newt…"

Newt whipped around, quickly advancing on Minho, grabbing his shirt to tug him closer still. "By. Who." When Minho still didn't answer Newt roared, "Tell me!"

Minho's eyes shone uncomfortably as he stared at Newt unflinching. He looked like Newt was the one dying. As if whatever he was holding in would destroy Newt so utterly he wouldn't be able to help. He looked like it was killing him as well.

"You," he whispered finally, sounding broken. "You stabbed him."

The affected was immediate. Newt collapsed to his knees, still holding onto Minho's shirt. His head was hung and there were tears cascading down his face. His body shook violently as he gasped desperately for air. Minho watched hovering over him looking lost.

"Why didn't you kill me? Why didn't you kill me?" He whispered in between sobs. "You should've killed me." Minho said nothing carefully wrapping his arms around Newt to draw him closer. He didn't make a sound but, there were tears hanging on his eyelashes. He gripped Newt tighter when he screamed.

Newt screamed and screamed and scream, until his voice chocked out and he gasp in a desperate breath that rocked them both. He breathed for a second before he was yelling out again.

"Why didn't you kill me!" Distantly Minho was aware that the whole beach would be able to hear him. Distantly he could feel someone else's presence hovering at the door.

Distantly he could feel himself holding Newt tight enough to bruise.

But he didn't move.

He just held Newt and cried as well.

Later, when they had both run out of tears to cry they sat side by side as Minho confessed what Thomas had said. They didn't look at each other as he spoke, didn't move their numb gazes off the sand beneath them as Minho told Newt softly that Thomas had left a last request.

Later, when they had both run out of tears to cry they found some more and cried again.


End file.
